


my funny valentine

by dryadfiona



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alcohol, F/M, this is barely even a sole and nick fic it's just me crying about my sole survivor for 1k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24654925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryadfiona/pseuds/dryadfiona
Summary: Nora wakes up with a hangover, a wedding ring on both her hands, and a passed out synth on the couch.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	my funny valentine

The first thing Nora becomes aware of is the godawful taste of sleep in her mouth, bitter and dry. After dozens of nights in different settlements and cities and a few ill-advised nights on the Prydwen, she knows to let her eyes adjust to the light before reaching for the water she'd hopefully left by her bedside. She forgets, most of the time, but it's always on the front-and-center of drunk Nora's mind, after her first date with Nate--

Dangerous train of thought. Moving on.

There's a ceiling without holes in it above her, but she still squints at the light streaming in through the grimy window. The second thing she's aware of is her killer headache, worst right behind her eyes, and it'd be so, so tempting to lean her head back and fall back asleep.

She has to make sure she's somewhere safe, first, so she looks up. Her head aches at that, vision blacking out for just a second.

After closing her eyes, letting herself adjust to being awake and nearly upright, she listens. The steady whirring of Nick's processors, people talking nearby, the lack of bullet noises. Diamond City, maybe Goodneighbor--the voices are raspy enough to be ghouls, and Diamond City has its prejudices. If it is Goodneighbor, the inn they're staying in is probably nastier than most of the places they actually pay for. The sour scent she can sort of smell makes that seem likely, though. Squinting one eye open, the telltale neon glow through the window confirms her suspicions.

She allows herself a quick grin, the pride that drove her through a double major, and looks around. Nick's actually out on the couch, rather than just relaxing like he normally does when she has to sleep. Nora sits up, quickly enough that her joints protest the sudden shift, looking over him for any signs of wear and tear. He seems fine, though, and part of her, a little embarrassed at her worry, remembers he does have to "sleep" sometimes. Just not often, and it's something to do with a antivirus check, or something.

She wants to ask, but she's worried it'll be taken as an urge to take him apart and figure out how he works. Nora might be interested in both of those things, but not like _that_. Not only that, at least. (She's politely restrained herself from using her curiosity to the Gen 1 synths they fight in his company.)

Reassured that all is well, she stretches, tries to remember the night that led to them renting a room in _Goodneighbor,_ of all places. There was alcohol involved, but that's not surprising, given the hangover. Enough to get Nick drunk, which means she's going to be lamenting the lack of caps in her pack for a few weeks. Vague memories of her putting aside her politeness and asking him about how he _does_ get drunk, since he sure as hell doesn't need to eat, and gotten a complicated explanation she should remember and doesn't. Damn. She'll have to ask him again.

It's these weird mornings, no one attacking, no place to get to as soon as possible, that she likes best when Dogmeat is there. Cuddling with a dog is something to do. Her hands are already twitchy with boredom, fiddling with her wedding ring to keep from picking at the skin around her nails. It's only then that she notices the new weight around her other hand, looks down to see another ring.

She's not super into jewelry, but it's her style. A simple, unadorned metal ring, something silver. Easy enough to move her finger, light enough to not be noticed when she's busy doing something. It's a nice complement to the one she still wears on her other hand, the simple golden band Nate surprised her with after their graduation.

The barely audible creak of "joints" Nick forgets to take care of alerts her to him waking up, and Nora grins up at him from the bed.

"So, do you get a hangover or did the Institute take care of that for you?" she asks.

"One of their few saving graces," he says, blinking a few times, the light in his eyes slowly brightening. 

"Lucky," she says. "Can you throw me some water from my pack?"

He does, the can of purified water thudding against her hand. She chugs it, letting it wash the bitter taste out of her mouth. Her head still hurts, and the night before's still mostly muddy, but by the time the can is empty, thinking is a little easier again. 

"Did you ask me about my CPU last night?" Nick asks, face furrowed in confusion. Looks like he doesn't remember, either. She might have to worry about that, at some point, wonder if she vented about "Father" or accidentally spilled "confidential" secrets from Piper, but her mind's still hazy with sleep and focused on the ring mystery.

"Probably," Nora says. "I definitely remember asking you about how you get drunk, but I don't remember the answer."

"I'll tell you again sometime," Nick says, wireframe-wrist twisting further than a human's would allow. Another diagnostic. It looks fine, even if she wishes he'd let her check it out. 

She'd like to say it's just professional curiosity, but she's never been a very good liar, even to herself.

Nora averts her gaze, looks back down to the ring. "We didn't stick up a jewelry store or anything, did we?"

"As if I'd let you," he says. 

"As if you could stop me," she says, the banter light and easy.

"Brotherhood tyranny," Nick says, and it might sound sage if he wasn't keeping himself from laughing.

"God, stop, I didn't realize what they were _like_ when I joined them," she says, head in her hands, and he doesn't laugh at her, but she can picture the grin on his face anyway. "At least I got some power armor out of it."

"True," he says, and Nora feels mostly like a person again when she looks up at him. "Why'd you ask me about a jewelry store?"

"I'm wearing a ring," she says, showing him. He doesn't have to squint to study it, eyes keener than hers, and looks down at his own hand.

"Huh," he says, and that's so clearly his _something is wrong_ tone that she tenses.

"Everything okay?" she asks, ready to get into her power armor and go rip the head off a Deathclaw, if she needs to.

"I'm wearing one too," he says.

It's then that a lot of things sort of click together: Nick relaxing enough to actually drink with her, Goodneighbor doing its best to be the Vegas of the Commonwealth, Nora's tendency to be embarrassingly honest after a couple shots. 

"Huh," she says.

* * *

A list of good things. Okay things. Things that keep this situation from being _more_ of a dumpster fire.

One: The government is completely collapsed. While this is something that normally brings Nora quite a bit of anxiety, it does mean there is, technically, nothing legally binding them together.

Two: Nick does not remember last night either, and therefore does not remember whatever awfully mushy shit Nora must have said. Something about being the first person after she woke up that felt anything but overwhelming to her, being more human than the actual humans she knows, _hopefully_ not anything that keeps her up at night, hearing processors whirring and just--thinking on that, letting it coil in her gut until she doesn't get any sleep at all.

A list of things that make everything worse.

One: Hancock _whoops_ when they do eventually leave the room, unable to look at each other. Nick just sighs rather than snap at him, but Nora's glare is enough for Hancock to take a step back, unsure.

She shouldn't take so much pride in being intimidating, but damn, she needs what she can get today.

Two: Nora has gone through the last of the purified water, but her head is still killing her, and she can't exactly stomach the idea of yao guai ribs or cooking bloatfly meat right now. 

Three: The first time Nick meets her eyes after leaving the room is when she hisses in pain, stumbling against the uneven blocks, and the concern in his eyes is not. Helping.

Four, and most pressing, which means it really should have been higher on this list:

No one will fucking tell them _anything_.

There's no shortage of "chapels", for religions varying from none to neo-Christianity to the Followers of the Apocalypse, but they all just grin at them.

"I know I'm normally against intimidating people to get answers," Nick says. Nora jumps at the sound of his voice--they haven't actually spoken to each other since leaving the inn. "But Jesus."

"He wasn't that helpful either," Nora says, banter still easy, and he laughs like it surprises him as much as her. "God. I mean, I guess it's doesn't--" She stops. She can't say it doesn't matter, not only because it seems _really_ rude, but because she doesn't trust herself to keep her voice steady. "We don't have to know _where_ it happened, right?"

"I suppose," he says, but he sounds unconvinced. 

"Besides," she says, trying to keep her tone light, "Doubt they'd take the rings back anyway."

He doesn't say anything to that, but he looks at her, now.

* * *

They came to Goodneighbor for a reason, sure, but Kent won't stop grinning at them once he notices the news, and Nora reconsiders the whole Silver Shroud things. 

(Not really. It's dumb but it makes her happier than anything else in this Wasteland. Other than--nope, dangerous train of thought.)

This time she's just intimidating, not killing, so the machine gun in her hands doesn't feel too out of place. The chem dealers are used to her now, out of the power armor. She wonders how many people made the connection between Nora, former (technically current) Brotherhood Knight, current partner in the Valentine Detective Agency, and the Silver Shroud, a little too strong-jawed to be the Mistress of Mystery--she's so rarely here outside the frame anymore. 

Nick follows her around both roles, though, so it shouldn't be a surprise when one of the dealers calls her Nora and tries to shoot her.

She turns, lets the bullet graze her shoulder, uses the gun to land a blow across his head rather than shoot. It'll bruise, if he lives, which seems unlikely, especially now that Nick's shooting right behind her ear. She's gonna have to ask Sun to check out her hearing again.

Most of the dealers scatter, appropriately cowed, and Nora, pitying the ghoul kid she knocked out, pulls out a stimpack and leaves it on his chest. When she sits up, Nick's looking at her with an intense expression. She could look away. She _should_ look away, but it's--nice, having so much attention on her. Been awhile. The fact that it's Nick is...well.

"Everything okay?" she asks. 

"I don't remember last night," he says. "But I don't--regret. Any of what happened."

Nora nods her head, a little too jerkily, but hopefully he gets it. "I--yeah. Yeah."

"Okay," he says, and he won't look at her, but he's smiling a little. "Glad we got that settled."

* * *

The next time they get drunk, Nora makes sure to stay sober enough to remember, to keep her head, to keep Nick from feeling guilty when she drags him off the couch towards her, grinning against his mouth.

She's delighted to find out that he's a little spoon when she wakes up.

* * *

"Wait, we got married for spousal privilege?"

"Makes sense."

"Why wouldn't anyone just tell us that, though?"

"That explains Kent's grin, too."

"At least it worked out, though."

"'Worked out.' A girl could feel underappreciated, Valentine."

"Well--"

"Can you both _please_ shut up before we continue on the rescue mission?"

"Sorry, Deacon."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not."


End file.
